


Please, Don't Hate Me

by sarcastic_fina



Series: don't hate me [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What a terrible thing choices were, especially when they were never really yours to begin with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please, Don't Hate Me

**Author's Note:**

> **prompt** : Olicity "Please don't hate me." ([take-me-tom-hiddleston](http://sarcasticfina.tumblr.com/post/76287307272))

What a terrible thing choices were, especially when they were never really yours to begin with. Oliver thought this was his choice, even Slade thought it was. There was a gun and two women and an option that meant one dead and one not, and Oliver couldn’t make that choice. He stared at a confused, crying Laurel, looking so frail and out of place, kneeling on the ground in front of a madman, unaware of why she was there or how she played into this whole thing. And then there was Felicity, her cheeks damp and her hair in disarray and the pretty pink dress she’d worn that day smudged with dirt, leaving her legs far too bare, scraped up and red from the chilly air. 

"Choose!" Slade demanded and Oliver shook his head, his eyes darting between two women who meant so meant in completely different ways. The answer was simultaneously easier and harder than it should ever be.

Laurel was his past. He never wanted anything to hurt her. He would gladly take that bullet for her, any day of the week, without reservation. She was not the woman he’d once loved and he wasn’t the man she’d once loved. They were shadows of those people, long grown out of who they were, both in good and terrible ways. Their history was just that,  _history_. But that didn’t meant he wanted her to pay for his sins. That didn’t mean he wanted to be the reason the trigger was pulled and her life ended. 

But Felicity… Felicity was his life. She was his future and his present and the light at the end of a very long, very dark tunnel. He couldn’t do this without her. There were days he wasn’t sure he could breathe without her. And he’d never said it, he’d never told her what she’d meant to him, how she’d saved him, how he wished he could be what she needed and deserved and wanted. 

He will never be the same, no matter whose blood paints his hands, but he knows that only one death will kill him. 

"Please, don’t hate me," her choked words whisper. 

And he looks at her, confused, because why, why would he ever hate her? It never even occurred to him that he could. 

But then Felicity was up, she was moving faster than he’d ever seen her move, and she did exactly what he should have expected of her. She played the hero and she saved the girl and she sacrificed herself to do it. 

“ _NO!_ ”

His scream echoed, almost as loudly as the gun that went off. And then it all went quiet, everything just went silent, a buzz in his ears. He forgot about Slade for a moment, forgot about the other woman kneeling in horror a few feet away. His stood, eyes wide, panting in shock.

He ran. He fell. On his knees, he reached for her, the hole in her head so reminiscent of Shado that he choked on bile. His hands shook as he gathered her up into his lap and cradled her, crying her name as he held her head, her soiled, bloody hair squishing under his fingers. He sobbed, shaking with the intensity of the loss, rocking her back and forth as he dragged a hand down her face, begging her to open her eyes.

_Felicity, please, please, look at me… Come on, look at me…  
_

But she didn’t; his pleas fell on deaf ears.

"Now you know how I felt,  _brother_ ,” Slade muttered before he walked away. 

Oliver pressed his face down against hers, kissing her cold, wet cheek. “I don’t hate you, I don’t hate you,” he told her, over and over. “I hate me. I hate me.” 


End file.
